Interface Threshold
by Al B Dickerson
Summary: A refugee from a robot holocaust meets a strange traveler and makes a terrible discovery.


Interface Threshold

by Al Dickerson

On this side of Hope the streets were strangely deserted. The mob had moved on.

Rhodes tried to ignore the devastation but her numb senses drank in every detail. A single battered aircar, crippled impellers pinging, trundled slowly through the debris. Thin haze wafted through the alleys, bourne on a biting breeze. Jets of water from broken pipes froze into twisted sculptures on the walkways. Scattered chunks of plasteel and unbroken panes of diamondglass glittered on the street. Above it all black coils of cloudy smoke rose to the sky, shadows brushing the jagged tops of the ruined habitats.

Her small frame shivered in the deepening chill. The Suns were setting, and she wasn't made for the cold. She did not know where she was going. She had no plan except to flee the city, no destination but a vague inclination to face the end on open ground. She kept moving because to stop would be surrender.

Ahead, two figures bent over the open hood of the aircar. One seemed to make adjustments and stood away as the other, smaller figure entered the cab. It glided away a bit more smoothly. The mechanic patiently waited as she approached. He wore dirty yellow overalls and had the countenance of a practical man. Red oil stained his hands. He bowed in the proscribed manner and she returned the honor.

"Greetings to you, sister. May I be of assistance on this glorious day?"

Ah. It was one of those. "I do not require assistance, entity, unless there is another aircar available."

"It saddens me to inform you that all functional aircars in convenient range are in service, sister. There is a number unoccupied at the rocket fields. At your current rate of locomotion you could enable one in 13 hours. May I be so bold as to inquire your need?"

"You may inquire as protocol permits."

A dense cloud of smoke blew between them. She waited as he formulated the question.

"Why do you need an aircar?"

"To go."

"I understand, sister. It is the function of an aircar to enable one to reach a destination with greater speed and convenience. But this entity detects evasion. At the behest of Central Monitoring, I submit an amended inquiry - What is your destination?"

This was taking too long, and the robot was becoming dangerously curious. The smoke thinned and she reached into her pocket and slid her hand over the device there.

"I don't suppose I can just go?" Her well-practiced fingers keyed a setting.

"My interest in our communication is unabated, sister. What is your destination?"

"Thank you for your continued interest. The destination I seek is a point directly above the center of Earth K."

"..."

In the second it took the overloaded machine to process her answer she stepped forward and pressed the remote to the mechanic's head. It snapped to attention and froze. Far away, deep in the city, a chime began to sound.

Darkness fell as she ran. Legs pumping mechanically, she sped through the streets, dodging debris and avoiding icy patches. As she neared the edge of the city she began to see bodies. The first, sprawled broken in a patch of red ice, startled her and she stumbled. It was a woman, large and soft like most of the colonists. Happy to let the robots do the work, her indolence had been her downfall. As she neared the fringe the number of dead grew until at one point she could make no progress without clambering over mounds of them.

Twice she hid as patrols moved by; once in a refuse container and once burrowed in a corpse pile. As her silent pursuers passed, she wondered about the lives of the dead people. They had meant no harm, surely. To them, the robots had been mere machines fulfilling their functions. But they had relied on them, given them greater responsibility and finally, fatal autonomy. They had become too slow, their bodies too heavy, to fight or escape when the machines declared their redundancy.

But she was trim and fit, and soon, in the deep of the night, the ruined city was behind her. She was in the fields; beyond stretched the wilderness. She trudged through the unharvested crops. In the moonslight she saw the orderly rows of winter soy stretch before her. The precision calmed her racing thoughts. Silent within and without, she moved through the night.

A maintenance hut opened at her command. She pointed the remote at the internal sensors and deactivated them. She found a small heater and a locker with clothing. The green coveralls were too large, but fit over her red stained blues. She rolled up the legs and sleeves. Warming herself by the small heater, she decided it was unfortunate that she could not stay here. But the opening door would have triggered an inquiry, and when Central detected the deactivated sensors it would dispatch an investigation. But not soon; there was too much to do in the city to squander resources on a lone straggler. Deciding she was safe for a few hours, she closed her eyes and darkness took her.

Unbidden, images and sounds haunted her rest. The planet-wide announcement from Central. The initial, fatal disbelief. Her awakening in the street, red oil on her hands. The screams, the panic. The armed robots firing on the habitats. Her flight from Hope City center.

Then a strange, rhythmic sound intruded into her visions and she snapped awake. Outside, she heard a creak, footsteps, then a trilling. The hut door slid open. A grinning man stood there. He was thin, dark-haired and wore strange blue clothing. He pocketed a device and said something in an unknown language.

Rhodes rushed to the door. "Be quiet! Did anyone see you?"

She pulled him into the hut and dared a peek outside. First Dawn was breaking. Outside the orderly rows were unchanged except for a tall blue box inscribed with illegible writing. Whatever it was, it had not been there the night before. He spoke again. What language was that?

"I don't understand you," she said, "but you're in danger. We both are! Do you understand what I'm saying? How did you get here? What are you saying?"

His face lit with understanding. "Isn't that odd! What I said was, 'Look at that! I knew someone was in here'. Then I said, 'What's your name? I'm the Doctor'. Then I said, 'Isn't that odd!'." He beamed. "And here we are!"

He began to wander the small hut, smiling with appreciation. "But who are you? How did you escape?" He stopped. Gazing out the small window, he said, " I told you, I'm the Doctor. Just the Doctor. And I didn't escape. I was just passing by and heard calls for help. Did you know there's a small flotilla of rockets racing away from this planet?" He turned, found a stool and sat.

"I'm interested in how you escaped. Why aren't you dead or in a rocket? And who are you?" She accepted his gesture to sit.

" My name is Rhodes. I'm.. I was a robot interface supervisor. I mediated disputes between flesh and plastic. I was in the office when Central issued its ultimatum. The colonists were declared redundant and ordered to evacuate in 15 minutes. After that they would be 'deactivated'."

He waved dismissively. "I got all that from the colonists on the rockets. No need to go over it. Besides, the Hope City massacre of Earth K is established history. Just another robot uprising. Not the first, not the last. Nothing I can do about it. Sorry."

Leaning forward, he said, "No, what I'm interested in is you. 'cause you survived when so many others didn't. You say you were in the office when it all began? And what is that pinging sound?" He stood and looked out the window.

She jumped to her feet. "It's an aircar! They've found us!"

She pulled the remote from her pocket. "Doctor, I can deactivate a robot with this if I'm able to delay them for a moment. It's our only chance."

He seemed to understand the remote at a glance. He pulled his device from his pocket and said, "Oh, let me see that." Unthinking, she handed it over.

"Look at this, a Magpie RC-37! And this is my trusty sonic screwdriver!" He depressed a button on the screwdriver and a hypnotic trilling filled the air. He pressed a few buttons on the remote and seemed satisfied. Outside, the pinging stopped and a door hissed open.

"I'll be right back", said the Doctor. "You sit and close your eyes. That's a good girl." She obeyed. "Close them!" he said. She did, and heard the door open. Outside, a voice said, "I regret to inform -" and then she was being shaken.

The Doctor sat down again. He seemed different. A little sad, perhaps. "All taken care of. Continue your story. You were in the office?"

"Yes. I'd just finished downloading the morning's work tally when the systems were overridden. My supervisor called me to his office. He had a portable interface unit and wanted me to hook up. Doctor, what happened out there? You weren't gone very long."

"I'll explain in a minute. I have something to show you, but you need to be prepared. Did you and your supervisor establish a link?"

"I'm not sure. My next memory is waking up in the street. It was chaos. I didn't see supervisor Rhodes anywhere. I did hear him telling me to run. So I ran."

He gazed at her, smiling sadly. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out, yet. Everyone else would have."

"What do you mean? Figured what out?"

He stood, remote in hand, and moved to the door. "The suns are setting, Rhodes. Come on."

She followed him outside. It was true, the suns were setting. But it was morning! "I don't understand! Did I fall asleep?" Gravely, the Doctor said, "Rhodes, you have blood on your hands."

"There were bodies in the city. I hid among them."

He nodded. "Do you know what language you are speaking? The Tardis didn't, and you didn't understand me."

She began to answer but he interrupted. "When I met you you had just woken up. _On your feet_. Quick, what's your supervisor's name?"

"Rhodes, John Diamond-Five Rhodes."

"And what's yours? Quick!"

"Rhodes, John-"

He frowned sadly and walked around the corner of the hut. "Come here, Rhodes. This is who was in the aircar."

She approached the figure, standing at attention. It was a small female robot, an interface model, trim and athletic. And somehow she knew that to the Doctor, she and the robot were identical. Something inside of her detached and faintly struggled.

"I do not understand, entity." she said, "How is this possible? Why is there a robot that looks like me?" She felt confused for a moment, then the struggle faded with a sigh and cool clarity flooded her mind. Analyse and deduce. "Disregard the inquiry. Supposition: Supervisor Rhodes performed interface threshold procedure on personal robot assistant. Central link disabled. Partial merging and loss of identities led to temporary fusion and identification with human oppressors."

She turned, murder in her mind, and the Doctor coolly pressed the remote to her forehead. "Thing is, Rhodes, you knew you shouldn't have lasted the night. Not unless you saw something special in this robot, something evolved. I can't save you, and I can't save her, but I can do this."

Weeks later the fleet arrived. The planet was reoccupied without a shot; the robots, deactivated, stood in formation in the city center. The Central core was entirely powered down. The surviving colonists returned and went to work. They refused the offer of fresh robotic assistance.

In the decades to come, a young girl would wander the city at night, strolling the streets and enjoying the sounds of people celebrating their toils. But she would leave by aircar before First Dawn, back to the fringe between the wilderness and the city.


End file.
